


It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by Whoops_heck



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I change the story a little bit, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non canon compliant, Other, Panic Attacks, mary Hartford dies, the foxes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 03:04:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16210064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoops_heck/pseuds/Whoops_heck
Summary: Neil Josten has a complicated relationship with Christmas.-Forgot he was Jewish when I wrote this rip





	It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> There’s one scene when he’s 15 that’s like Attempted rape by his teacher so just a warning
> 
> Plus there’s panic attacks kind of.

It was a dead winter. Snow so heavy you can’t breath. Air so cold it feels like your lungs are getting filled with water with every breath. No one moved from their tiny little homes. Wrapped up in blankets and scarves and winter hats knitted by grandma. 

I saw those people as I passed their homes. My eyes getting whipped by the wind. Every house had a Christmas tree, lights hanging off their rooves, a snowman in the front yard. If my eyes lingered too long on any one she would yank me forward. 

We trudged through the snow in running shoes and inadequate clothing. 

I was 11 and this was the first time I really missed home.

———

12

———

The air was dry. Too dry for this time of year. The sun was still beating down on my skin. It was red and blistered but I didn’t say anything. We only had so much money, it couldn’t be used for stupid things like sunscreen. 

We were walking along the side of the freeway. Cars whizzing passed. Some honked and my mom just scowled. Her grip on my wrist was tight and it only got tighter with every blaring honk. 

We were almost to our exit anyway. Sure it would have been ideal to hitch hike but we hadn’t been able to change our disguises from last time. It was too risky to be stuck in a strangers car.

But we were walking along the side of the freeway getting honked at, It couldn’t be much worse than this.

Christmas night was spent in a motel. Our gifts to one another we’re safety and someone to watch your back. Comfort in a very round about way.

———

13

———

I was in Sweden by the end of the next year. We had been in four cities inbetween. Slipping on new identities and hair colors and contacts. Losing a bit of myself with every one I had to peel off. 

Big granite slabs made up the floor and bruises in the shape of fingers were beginning to form on his shoulder. 

“We need to split up Elias. We can meet up in an hour or so. Don’t stay on one road or go one direction for too long.”

Then she hugged me in a fake farewell and waved me off. She was able to act so casual, I actually envied her skill. I kept walking while these thoughts flew through my head. Feet clacking on granite triangles. There was slush on the ground and fresh snow was just beginning to fall. 

She was stupid to trust me. I’m gonna get killed somehow. I just fucking know it-

My train of thought is cut off my a girl approaching me. She has something in her hands and I take a step back. I never was good at acting casually.

“Pratar du Svenska?” The words leave her mouth like a song.

“Ja.”

She laughs a little, “Are you from America?”

My eyes dart around a bit, “kind of.”

It’s the biggest truth I could give. I’m from every single state. I’ve lived in so many towns as so many different people. Right now though I’m Elias and he lived in America until he was ten. Three years ago.

Her laugh comes again and she pulls the thing from behind her back. I can’t hold back a flinch and curse myself, looking for a way out of this conversation. 

“For you.”

I just stare at it.

“It’s a present, haven’t you gotten a present before?”

My mind flips to the present of protection. Of a good nights rest as the other keeps watch. The gift of safety from his father. All the gifts his mother have given him over these three years they’ve been running.

A shaky nod and then she just smiles sadly, “Well take this one. It’s a sweater, kind of looks like you need it.”

As I open my mouth to protest a harsh gust of wind slams into my side and I can see her raise a challenging eyebrow

I take the box from her hands.

“I’m Allison by the way. Out here doing volunteer work for the charity my parents made.”

“I’m Elias.”

“Merry Christmas Elias.”

“Merry Christmas.”

When I got back to the hostes we were staying in my mother slapped me across the face and gripped my hair tight. “Don’t ever trust the kindness of strangers, they always have ulterior motives.”

She scolded me but let me keep the sweater. 

That seemed like a fair trade.

———

14

———

“So where’s your dad?”

They were in a more long term city at the moment. I was in school after a last stopped us on the street and asked what school I was going to attend. Small town people are too friendly for their own good. Especially when my mother was involved.

I turned to the girkbnext to me. We were doing a family tree project and my hands shook as I tried to draw straight branches.

“He’s gone.”

“Where’d he go?”

The kid had Down syndrome and just because she was asking harsh questions didn’t mean I could just ignore her.

“He left us.”

It was almost ironic enough to make me laugh.

“My mom did that.”

I rose my gaze to make eye contact with the girl. Her name was Sidney and she had been the only person to talk to me when I entered this class halfway through the year.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah it does.”

It was a week before Christmas and we were getting a Two week long vacation which would e the perfect time to disappear. 

“Sidney I’m probably going to leave this school.”

“Oh, ok.”

Her voice seemed to fall a little.

“Bye Andrew.”

The name didn’t feel right even though he’d been wearing it for months.

“Bye Sydney. If I ever make my way back to this place I better find out you’re running this place.” They often talked about how much she hated the principal. I suggested she overthrow them, create anarchy, etc. Sydney wasn’t so sure about that.

“And you playing sports professionally.”

“Thanks Syd. See you.”

The bell rang and I walked out of loud hallways. Bright green walls, blue lockers, strangers disguised as friends or acquaintances. I’d never see any of them again.

I’d probably only miss Syd.

We spent Christmas in a car.

———

15

———

Chicago winters were cold. Infinitely colder than the winters of the past. Perhaps I was getting too thin or I should’ve kept that sweater that had been falling apart. Just to wear under a sweatshirt. Insulation would have been nice to face this Chicago winter. The ground was icy and for once I had more bruises from slipping then from my mothers hard grip.

I shouldn’t feel so satisfied at that thought. 

There are plenty of abandoned houses to squat in and she lets me go to school. Chicago isn’t so bad. My names Peter Shuab and it seems I’m the only kid in this cold icy city who likes school.

What I don’t like is teachers.

Those who wrap their hands around my arms especially. The flinch is involuntary.

“Peter can I talk to you for a second?”

I rip my arm from his grip and look around at my classmates leaving the room. Paying no mind to the kid with the teacher.

I nod shakily.

“Peter I’ve noticed you’ve been falling behind in class lately.” I hadn’t, “you seen a little unfocused during my lectures,” math was the only class I did focus, “Maybe you’d like a private lecture?”

He puts a hand on my arm and I look from it to his face and then back at it. Panic rises in my throat.

“I think I’m alright Mr. Decker. Thank you though. I’m going to go now.”

His hand doesn’t move. And his grip is strong.

“Mr. Decker please let go of me.”

He doesn’t and my breathing becomes fast looking for some means of escape.

“Or else what Pete?”

“I’ll-“

He leans in so close that I shut up and close my eyes. Leaning as far away as I can.

“You’ll what? Snitch? Run to mommy and tell her? No one will believe you Pete. You’re just another problem kid that’s not going to graduate. Just stop resisting this. You know you want it.”

With all my strength I swung back and aimed a kick right at his balls. The second my wrist is released I’m scrambling out of the door. Sprinting to the locker room, grabbing my duffle with shaking hands. My lungs shake as I run to the abandoned house two and a half blocks from school.

I can’t breath, oh fuck why can’t I breath. Did he give me something? Fuck I have to get to my mom. What if, what if he’s there with her? What if- I can’t breathe fuck, there’s the house, I run so quickly my lungs might just explode. I swing the back door open to my mother and a gun pointed at my head. 

Running up to her I feel her face with shaking hands. Making sure she’s ok,“Mom. Mom we have to leave right now. Mom! Mom please why aren’t you packing? Fuck- I- mom we can’t. We can’t stay- here.”

My breathing is labored and she stares at me with wide eyes. There’s a noise in the house and I whip around quickly grabbing the gun from her hands. It shakes in my hand. I put my mom behind me, he can’t touch her. He can’t I won’t let him. Fuck is he behi-

“Abram!”

It’s a whisper scream and a slap across he face. Apparently she’s been calling my name the whole time. The gun is out of my hands and I try to focus on her words.

My lungs begin to clear.

“What is wrong with you? If it’s one of his men you are to call me immediately not bring them here with you!”

She slaps me again and I collapse onto my back suddenly exhausted.

“It was my teacher. He- he tried-“

“If it’s just your teacher then don’t blow our cover. You idiot, I thought we’ve been over this.”

I looked at her with eyes blown wide, “but mom he-“

“We don’t leave until these identities are compromised. Got it?”

I nod. We’re in a stare off. Mine wide her’s a glare, “and next time use the fucking knock. I almost shot you.” 

I spent Christmas breathing through panic attacks. By New Years we were Sandra and Nick and I never had to see Mr.Decker again. 

———

16

———

I was getting sewn up in the back of a Volkswagen bus. Drunk on some alcohol that burned. My moms hands shook and she mumbled stupid and other things at me. They seemed misdirected. A group of people heading to some festival picked us up. The car definitely had too many people in it and the smell of weed stuck to the fake leather seats.

They were all laying on blankets in a field while we watched the van.

She said if we finished early that we’d take it into town, steal a less conspicuous vehicle, and get out of here. 

As my body began to warm and numb the pain was more like a light stabbing then a bullet. I don’t know how these people hadn’t seen my blood soaked shirt, maybe they thought it was just a design. Mistaking my blood loss for being high. 

I must have passed it because the next thing I knew my mother was supporting one of my shoulders into some grey car.

Looking behind me I see a brown Honda. I had been out for at least two car switches which made panic itch the tips of my fingers. 

But my mother was here and she kept me safe. 

“Thank you, I’m sorry I was it for so long.”

She scowled, “Apologize don’t help anyone.” I’m sure deep down she meant something a typical mother might have said. What that was I don’t really know. A vague image of a woman in a blue dress holding a glass full of lemonade came to mind. I hadn’t seen any woman do that during my time running. 

Maybe she’d hold my hand and say everything’s going to be okay. 

But I guess that’s a lie.

I could’ve died in the back of a Volkswagen bus that smelled like weed.

“What time of year is it?”

“Don’t be dramatic, you were out for three days.”

“So I missed-“

“Yes you slept through Christmas. You didn’t miss much. Just driving through Idaho. We’re in Washington now. Heading for Seattle. You’ll have to get a job once we get there.”

She threw me in the passenger seat of the car and started the engine. 

“Buckle up.”

I smiled and thought that’s just as good as a pitcher of lemonade.

———

17

———

We stayed in Seattle for half a year. I did end up getting job. I thought it was awfully stereotypical but I got a job in a coffee shop. The orders were simple, people spent more time looking at the menu the man my face and if they did, the scars often deterred any interaction. 

I had burnt my hands countless times with hot coffee but it’s not like they had much feeling before. What’s a few less nerves.

I had a nice coworker but he asked too many questions and started acting weird around me. His name was Greg.

He asked me out for dinner and I almost had a panic attack. These days it feels like the smallest thing can send my heart rate spiking. Being in a state of panic leads to confusion and a blurring of reality. Both things I coukdnt afford.

I politely declined and said I don’t really have time for that kind of thing right now.

He seemed sceptical but accepted it none the less. 

One day I was in the middle of taking an order when my mother called. She hadn’t done that more than three times in my whole life. I picked it up immediately and she yelled at me to bring the car to the apartment. We had rented it under fake names and with cash. Her breathing was labored and I heard gunshots through the phone. 

I jumped over he counter like a stupid, attention drawing piece of shit. The car started and I was gone. Right as I pulled up she ran in, clutching her body as blood poured out. I couldn’t look as she gave me directions. 

The drive South was near silent. 

We stopped in California. I buried her in California. I grieved for her in the bathroom of a gas station. I bought a pack of gum in order to use it, left it on the counter, and ran to the bathroom.

The dam broke and suddenly I was a 17 year old all alone in the world. 

All alone except for the men and women hunting me down.

Milport was a safe haven. Freedom from the ghost bruises my mother would leave. Exy was my favorite hung in the world. A glimpse of light behind a solid wall of concrete. A crack in the defense mechanisms I put in place. I spent Christmas in a locker room singing Christmas carols silently to myself. 

Throughout the years, wherever I spent Christmas we’d turn up the radio and let the songs play. They were some of the only songs I knew.

‘It’s the most wonderful time,

Of the year’

‘Theyll Be much mistletoeing 

‘

And hearts will be glowing’

‘When loved ones are near’

I broke into a sob at the thought of my mother. I don’t know if what we had was love.But I can’t imagine it being anything else. If that wasn’t love, then what was?

‘It’s the most wonderful time of the year’

I let tears leak down my face thinking of a beach in California.

I fell asleep shivering and dreaming of ghosts and beaches and car fires and bullet wounds and Christmas carols. 

My chapped lips let out a humorless chuckle,

“Merry Christmas mom.”


End file.
